Summary

Cassie Brighter recounts her personal journey of self-discovery and acceptance as a transgender woman, detailing her struggles from childhood to adulthood before embracing her true identity.

Abstract

Cassie Brighter shares her deeply personal story of coming to terms with being a transgender woman after a lifetime of internal conflict and societal pressure. From a moment of sexual exploration as a child, through years of denial and conformity, to the profound impact of her brother's sudden death, Cassie's narrative is one of resilience and courage. Despite the fear of disrupting her family life and the societal expectations of her male role, she ultimately chooses to transition, finding solace in the support of her loved ones and the transgender community. Her story underscores the importance of living authentically and the high stakes for transgender individuals, with a staggering 41.2% attempted suicide rate among the population. Cassie's journey culminates in her embracing her identity as Cassandra, a name that resonates with her childhood and her path to self-acceptance.

Opinions

Cassie felt a profound sense of shame and confusion about her gender identity from a very young age, exacerbated by her father catching her in a moment of childhood sexual exploration.
She harbored deep jealousy of her sister's femininity and openly acknowledged her desire to be a girl throughout her life, despite societal pressures to conform to a male identity.
The death of her brother served as a catalyst for Cassie's introspection and the eventual realization that she could no longer deny her true self.
Cassie's internal struggle with denial, procrastination, and rationalization was a defense mechanism against the fear of disrupting her family dynamics and the potential loss of her social support system.
The alarming statistic of a 41.2% attempted suicide rate among transgender individuals is highlighted as a stark reality faced by many in the transgender community, including Cassie's own contemplations.
Cassie's decision to transition was a significant turning point in her life, described as a journey from the darkness of her past to the sunlight of her authentic self, as symbolized by the name Cassandra.
The narrative conveys a strong message of the importance of authenticity and the transformative power of self-acceptance, despite the societal challenges and personal turmoil that may arise.

The Long Journey to Self-Acceptance

Coming out trans — after decades of avoiding and resisting

My brother and I at the lake — Bariloche, Argentina 1971

I first wrote this on my Facebook for National Coming-Out Day, on October 11, 2017.

Glimpses

A boy I knew from the block led me to the terrace of my home, where he convinced me to engage in a childish game of sexual exploration.

Something happened during that playful sexual moment that thrilled me and terrified me at the same time. I realized, with undeniable clarity, that what I liked was not what “boys are supposed to” like. Time slowed down, as I tried frantically to process this new information about myself.

It was at that exact moment that my father caught us. Our pants were down, the boy was pressed against my back.

My father’s stern voice mixed with my embarrassed nakedness, with all my conflicting emotions about my discovered self, to metastasize into a paralyzing wave of shame.

I was eight years old.

When I was eleven, we vacationed in Brazil. In Sao Paulo, I saw a tabloid garishly portraying a beautiful girl on the front page, with big block letters, “18 year-Old Undergoes Sex Change.”

I was mesmerized. I stared at the magazine for what seemed like hours. With longing.

I was a seventeen-year old in NYC when I met a group of transgender women. They were sex workers. They were loud, aggressive, hard. They scared me to death.

I was also seventeen when I lost my virginity to a boy my age.

I was seventeen when I wrote in my diary, “I think I should’ve been born a girl.”

Me at Eighteen — Bariloche, Argentina 1985

At any given moment of my life, if you were to ask, “do you want to be a boy or a girl?” I would of course tell you the obvious — a girl, of course.

I was inordinately jealous of my little sister, with her slender feminine body and her long blond hair.

At any given moment of my life, if you were to ask, “do you want to be a boy or a girl?” I would of course tell you the obvious — a girl, of course.

Why Rock The Boat

You make lemonade.

I did my best to conform, and blend with the normals. I wanted a family — and I got one — twice. A daughter, all grown-up, lives in the Bay Area. The second wave is still growing — driving lessons for my sixteen-year old son, gymnastics for my eleven-year old daughter.

A consummate entertainer, I played a role, put on a puppet show. The years wore on.

I hated playing a male role in the bedroom. Looking back, I hated playing a male role everywhere else, too.

But why rock the boat. Why wreck everything. Why upset everyone.

What would my parents think.

The Jolt

In 2009, my extremely gifted, extremely healthy older brother died suddenly in a bicycle accident. As I struggled to process his death, I vowed to LIVE.

How could I live more authentically? How could I connect, truly engage with life? I circled something for days… not quite finding it. Then, in a lighting bolt of clarity, my mind SHOUTED at me. What about your love of glitter? Your beloved tea set when you were nine? Your bra collection? What about the makeup? Your jealousy of your spouse’s pregnancies? Your longing for all of the things society attributes to women?

(There was a lot more than this. It’s hard to articulate it accurately.)

I fought. I tried denial. I tried procrastination. I tried rationalization. Nothing worked. “Face it. You’re a girl,” said my mind. “Fuck you,” I replied. “Denial is bullshit,” said my mind. “Denial has worked for years.” “Has it though?” — mocking me, now.

41.2%.

That’s the percentage of attempted suicide among the transgender population.

“Well hell, not me!”

Except that I had bought life insurance. And asked about a suicide clause.

Except I know exactly how I would do it.

I have two kids still growing; I gotta stick around. And my mother had just lost a kid — can’t lose another.

In 2010 I wrote a coming-out letter to my parents. In the summer of 2011 I decided I would transition.

Finding Myself

I first introduced myself as Cassie in August of 2014.

39 years of knowing but resisting. 39 years of trying to make it go away. 39 years of puppetry.

This sentence, from the lyrics of an Argentinean folk-rock song from the 1970s, has been with me since I was a teen: “Bienvenida, Casandra! Bienvenida al sol y a tu niñez!”

Welcome, Cassandra — welcome to your childhood, welcome to the sunlight.

Happy Coming-Out Day, everyone.

(The original post on Facebook linked to the Empowered Trans Woman Summit, launched in October 2017)

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Read another story by Cassie Brighter:

Fuck Tolerance The End of White Civilization What Do We Do About Wombs? Men Need Clear Instructions The Day I Invented a Religion for my Children The Things I Can’t Tell You (something of a love poem) Sportsball, Love, Loss, and Friendship Living My Best Life — They Tell Me Trans Women & The Danger of a Single Story Trans Women May Soon Give Birth — a trans woman’s perspective I Wasn’t ‘Annoyed’ at Your Misgendering Me Why This Sudden Trans Kids Trend? What Do We Do About Women With A Penis? Lesbians Who Don’t Sleep With Trans Woman Are Bigots? Tales of Transition: The Landscaper and the Icecream Man The Cage Around Me, The Rage Inside Me (a short poem) Welcome, Welcome Cassandra! — The Long Journey to Self-Acceptance Coming Out Trans To Your Children: A Step-by-Step Guide A March for ALL Women: A Trans Woman’s Defense of the Pussyhat Men Need Clear Directions (a #MeToo conversation) An Open Letter To A Good Man Just a Bad Date